Home For Christmas
by Stephen Ratliff
Summary: Marrissa Stories #12, in which our hero visits France for Christmas


Home for Christmas  
  
A Marrissa Story  
  
by Stephen Ratliff  
  
Prologue  
  
It was Christmas Eve Morning at the Picard Family Vineyard. Marie was preparing breakfast for everyone. Isabelle was feeding Rene his cereal and the ten-month-old boy was spreading the stuff all over the floor. Theresa hadn't come down to breakfast yet. She was insisting on dressing herself, and her mother was sure that she'd be trying to dress up today.  
As Marie finished Theresa's waffle, her three year old daughter rushed into the room. Theresa was wearing a green skirt, a red turtle-neck, and a white sweater with the tag turned up. It was one of her best outfits, the one that Marie had intended for Christmas Eve Mass. Hopefully it would last the day. "Here is your waffle, Theresa," Marie said, placing the waffle on the table as Theresa climbed up into her booster seat. Marie fixed the tag and pulled Theresa's blond hair from under the sweater, then turned back to the waffle maker. "Try not to get the syrup on your sweater."   
"I'm not a baby, Mommy," Theresa said, spearing a piece of the maple syrup covered waffle. "I don't make messes like little Rene."  
At that Rene knocked his cereal bowl off his high chair. Seeing the bowl bounce off the floor and the cereal scattered all over it, Rene raised his arms in amusement, pounding them up and down. Rene's mom looked at the mess and sighed, "Tell me he'll grow out of it." Isabelle began cleaning up the mess.  
"When is Marrissa coming?" Theresa asked, carefully wiping her mouth, determined to show that she could keep her sweater clean.  
"She, Uncle Jean-Luc, Aunt Beverly, and your cousin Jacqueline will be here in a couple hours," Marie said, sitting down with her own waffle. "I see you are looking forward to your cousin's arrival." Theresa nodded, spearing another piece of waffle. "Any particular reason?"  
"She's a princess," Theresa pronounced between bites.  
"Oh?" her mother said. "And that's something special? Like her being in Starfleet."  
"Anyone can be in Starfleet," Theresa pronounced. "Uncle Jean- Luc is in Starfleet, so's Aunt Beverly. Marrissa's a princess too."  
"It seems Theresa has caught a case of royal hero worship," Isabelle commented from across the room, lifting her son from his high chair.  
"Runs in the family," Marie replied.  
  
Little Theresa heard the front door opening. She was in the living room, staring up at the tree. She couldn't remember ever having a Christmas tree before. Her mommy said that they hadn't had one last year. This year's tree had silver garland and red spun glass balls hanging from it's boughs. White lights sparkled, and an ornate red and white glass star topped the tree.  
The sound of the front door opening drew her away. From the hallway came her mother's voice, "Welcome home, Jean-Luc."  
As Theresa came around the corner, she heard her uncle respond, "It's nice to be here. Where is my little niece?"  
Her uncle towered over her as he approached. He wore black pants and a long sleeve blue causal shirt. He squatted down beside her as Isabelle helped Aunt Beverly take off her coat. Theresa's mother was opening the door. "So how is my favorite niece doing?"  
"Fine," Theresa said, her attention diverted to the door by the entry of a new person. Marrissa was carrying a large number of packages, and didn't exactly look like a princess in her Starfleet security uniform. "Marrissa!" Theresa shouted, rushing over to her cousin.  
"Well I can see who Theresa is interested in," Jean-Luc said, standing back up. "Well at least Jackie still likes me."  
"Oh, by the way Jean-Luc, she needs changed," Beverly said, handing the eight-month old girl to her father.   
"Hello, Theresa, it's been a while since I've seen you," Marrissa said, squatting down to become eye level with her two foot shorter and ten year younger cousin. She nearly loss the packages, so she straightened up. "Can you show me the tree, so I can put the presents under it?"  
"It's in here," Theresa said as she darted into the living room. Marrissa followed the toddler.  
  
In the living room, Marrissa placed the presents under the tree. Theresa watched as her cousin placed the colorfully wrapped packages under the tree. As each package was placed under the tree, Theresa asked who it was for. She examined closely each of the packages that Marrissa had said was hers. Wondering what was in the packages under the tree was a tradition going back longer than that of the Starship Enterprise.  
While Marrissa entertained her cousin with the presents, Marie and Beverly came into the room. They sat down on the black leather couch with red tartan patterned throw pillows. "So Marie, how has this year been?" Beverly inquired.  
"Much better than last year," Marie replied, leaning forward to pour out the wine into crystal goblets. As the red wine poured, she continued. "Last year was rough after Robert and Rene's deaths. This year has been a year of joy in comparison. Isabelle had her baby. Little Rene has been a joy. Especially since I don't have to change my grandson's dippers."  
"I wish that was so with Jackie," Beverly replied, taking one of the glasses from Marie. Looking at Theresa continued. "I can't wait until she's as old as Theresa. At least she's sleeping though the night."  
"Wait until Jackie starts walking," Marie said. "Little Rene is just starting."  
"I remember when Wesley started walking," Beverly replied, shaking her head. "It's been 24 years since I had him. I'm forty- eight years old. You'd think I would be done with raising children by now."  
At the base of the Christmas Tree, Theresa was carefully examining a silver wrapped foot long package with a red bow. Her face was drawn with intents concentration, as Marrissa steadfastly refused to let her know what it was.  
"I envy you," Marie said. "You've still got all the most important mile stones ahead of you. The first step, the first word, Theresa's growing up so fast, and becoming so independent. Sometimes I wonder if she still needs me, then she comes down for breakfast with her shoes on the wrong feet and her shirt on backwards."  
"I remember when Wesley use to do that," Beverly said, placing her half empty wine glass on a coaster on an end table. "He wouldn't let any help him, no matter how bad he had dressed himself."  
"Speaking of your son, is he coming?" Marie asked, taking a sip of her wine.  
"I asked him to, and he said he'd try, but his training doesn't leave much time," Beverly said, as her husband entered the room carrying Jackie.  
"One freshly changed little lady," Jean-Luc said, handing the little girl to her mother. He then took a seat beside his wife, placing his arm around her. He smiled as Marie handed him a glass of the family speciality. He took a sip. "The Fifty-three?"  
"Correct," Marie replied, as she looked back to the two by the tree. Theresa was now leaning back against Marrissa, who was telling her a story. "Aren't they cute?" she whispered.  
"I think you're biased, but what parent isn't," Jean-Luc said, staring at his baby daughter, who was smiling up at him.   
Then Isabelle stuck her head in from the door, "Dinner is served," she said.  
"She's cooking?" Jean-Luc remarked as they got up from the sofa.  
"I've been working with her," Theresa said. "I've got to pass on the talent some time. Plus, this place still doesn't have a replicator."  
  
The lunch was a traditional home cooked meal. There was baked ham, mashed potatoes, and green peas laid out on the table. A basket of fresh baked bread was passed around the table, and everyone took some. Jean-Luc breathed in the smell. This was one thing he missed up in the stars. He poured himself a glass of the fifty-three, and after a prayer, they began to eat.  
"So Isabelle, how have you been doing?" Beverly asked, as they ate.  
"Petty good, I think," Isabelle said, feeding her son. "Since Rene started walking, it's been rather hard to keep up with him though."  
"I remember when Wesley started walking," Beverly smiled. "He was into everything."  
"I have to keep him away from the tree," Isabelle remarked. "He nearly knocked it down yesterday."  
"I bet his grandparents adore him," Marrissa commented.  
"I do," Marie said, "But that Mr. Boucher wouldn't dare show his face here."  
"Marie, you shouldn't be so hostile," Jean-Luc remarked, getting another piece of ham. "Philippe is Rene's grandfather and Isabelle's father."  
"He gave up that right when he threw Isabelle out last Christmas Eve," Marie replied with disgust.  
"I thought we had talked with him, and he had accepted the situation," Jean-Luc remarked, halting his consumption of his dinner.  
"I thought so too," Isabelle said sadly. "Then Rene's last Christmas present arrived. Apparently the hand crafted saddle was too much for him."  
"And I found Isabelle on my doorstep Christmas morning," Marie concluded. "It will be a long time before he's welcome in this house."  
  
The church was decorated in Christmas attire. Boughs of holly adored the end of each pew. A manger was set up on the left side of the alter, complete with a straw filled manger. Candles where lit throughout the church. The smell of pine filled the sanctuary from the wreath suspended from the blue painted vaulted ceiling.  
It was to this scene that Jean-Luc Picard entered the church dressed in a black suit and tails, a top hat in one hand, and a his other arm wrapped around his wife. Beverly wore a red topped dress with a green skirt and matching half cape. Jacqueline was in her arms, dressed in a frilly red dress. Behind them came Marie Picard, in a conservative dark green dress, holding her daughter Theresa. Next came Isabelle in a red dress and her son in her arms wearing his white and blue sailor suit. Beside her was Marrissa, in a dark red dress, cut low in the back, and white gloves coming up to her elbows. The Picard family took a seat in the fifth row of oak pews.  
On the right side of the alter, a choir of children dressed as angels walked in. Taking their places, their wings rustled as they opened their red songbooks. Their director turned to address the congregation, "Welcome to Christmas Eve Children's Mass, our opening hymn will be number 212, 'It came upon a midnight clear.'" He turned back to the choir and raised his hands.  
The children opened up in song.  
  
It came upon a midnight clear, that glorious song of old  
From angels bending near the earth, to touch their harps of gold.  
"Peace on earth, good will to men, from heaven's all gracious King,"  
The world in solemn stillness lay, to hear the angles sing...  
  
The oaken cross was carried in followed by Philippe Boucher, carrying the lectoinary. Two altar servers and Father Frances brought up the rear. As they passed the Picard pew, their was a variety of reactions. Marie Picard stared at Mr. Boucher in disgust. Isabelle looked at her father with a note of sadness. Marrissa examined the man with curiosity. Jean-Luc gave him a challenging glare. All them were lost on the man, as he stared straight ahead, concentrating on his job. He placed the lectionary on the lectern and sat down in the front pew.  
Soon it was time for the first reading. Mr. Boucher ascended to the lectern, and opened the lectionary to the first reading. He began, "A reading from the book of Isaiah,"  
Marie fastened her glare on him, boring into his soul.  
  
"For Zion's sake I will not be silent,   
for Jerusalem's sake I will not be quiet.   
Until her vindication shines fourth like the dawn  
and her victory like a burning torch  
Nations shall behold your vindication,  
and all kings your glory;  
You shall be called by a new name  
pronounced by the mouth of the Lord.  
You shall be a glorious crown in the hand of the Lord,  
a royal diadem held by your God.  
No more shall men call you "Forsaken,"  
  
Mr. Boucher paused slightly in the reading, but continued.  
  
or your land "Desolate"  
  
A tear formed in Mr. Boucher's eye, as he finished the reading.  
  
"But you shall be called "My Delight,"  
and your land, "Espoused"  
For the Lord delights in you,  
and makes your land his spouse.  
As a young man marries a virgin,  
your builder shall marry you,  
And as a bridegroom rejoices in his bride  
so shall your God rejoice in you.  
  
The reading concluded, Mr. Boucher, his voice cracking, said, "This is the word of the Lord." Guiltily, Marie looked down at the floor as the church replied, "And also with you."  
The Mass passed uneventfully until it was time for the gospel. As it was tradition at the children's Mass, this was the Christmas pageant. Isabelle had excused herself and her son, and positioned herself off to the left side of the altar. Father Francis took the lectern for a moment, stating, "Please be seated, for the Gospel according to Luke."   
Then a boy of about thirteen took the lectern and began. "In those days, a decree went out from the Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered. This was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria. All the men went to their own towns to be registered. Joseph went from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to the city of David called Bethlehem, because he was descended from the house and family of David." Mary and Joseph proceeded up the aisle to the manger.   
The choir picked up to tune, "O Little town of Bethlehem, How still we see thee lie, Above thy deep and dreamless sleep, the silent stars go by, Yet in thy dark streets shin-eth the everlasting light, The hopes and fears of all the years, Are met in thee tonight."  
The boy continued, "He brought Mary, to whom he was married, who was expecting her first child. While they where there, the time came for her to deliver her child. And she gave birth to her first born son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no room at the in."   
Isabelle handed Mary her son, now wrapped in cloth. The choir raised there voices once again, "Away in the manger, no crib for his bed, The little Lord Jesus laid down his sweet head. The stars in the heavens looked down where he lay, the little lord Jesus, asleep in the hay. The cattle are lowing, the poor baby wakes, but the little Lord Jesus, no crying he makes. I love the Lord Jesus, look down from the sky, and stay by my cradle to watch lullaby."  
Once again the boy picked up the story, as shepherds gathered in the aisle. "In that region there were shepherds gathered tending their flocks by night. Then an angel of the Lord appeared before them and the glory of the Lord shown around them, and they were terrified"   
An angel walked in from the side and said, quite softly, "Do not be afraid; for see— I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign to you: you will find the child wrapped in cloth and lying in a manger"  
The boy then said, "And suddenly, there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly hosts, praising God."  
The choir rose in song, "Angels we have heard on high, Sweetly singing on the plain, And the mountains in reply, echoing their joyous strain, Glo------ria in excelsus deo, Glo---ria in excelsus deo."  
The boy concluded, "When the angels had left them and gone to heaven, the shepherds hastened to Bethlehem and found Mary and Jesus as the angels had told them. When they saw this they made known what had been told to them about the child, and all who heard were amazed. But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart."  
Father Frances concluded, "The gospel of the Lord."   
Once again the choir took up the Refrain, "Glo-----ria in excelsus deo, Glo-----ria, in excelsus deo." The rest of Mass proceeded uneventfully.   
  
After Mass, the family left the church out onto the new fallen snow. But before they could get into the horse driven sled, Philippe Boucher intercepted Isabelle. "What do you want, Father," Isabelle asked, somewhat sad and defiant.  
Philippe had tears running down his face as he looked at his daughter in her bright red winter coat, carrying her baby son. "I know I don't deserve it, and you have every right to refuse," he began. "But I'd like your forgiveness for how I've treated you the past couple years. And I'd like to get to know my grandson."  
"And what brings this sudden change of heart," Isabelle asked, clutching her son closer to her breast.  
"A lot of things, with your brother away at school, and the fifth anniversary of you mother's death," her father replied. "I had time to think about how I'd been treating you, and how Louse would have wanted you to grow up. I don't think I had any part in it, but you're just like your mother. Determined, you don't back down when you want something. Caring, you are everything you mother was and more. I just want to be a small part of your life again."  
"Well, it is Christmas, and Rene is already having to grow up without a father," Isabelle remarked. "You can come over to see me and Rene tomorrow for Christmas dinner. We'll see about anything more."  
"Thank you Belle," Mr. Boucher said. "You don't know how much this means to me."  
"I know your cooking," Isabelle shot back, as she moved toward the red sleigh.  
As she boarded the sleigh, Marie asked, "What did your father want?"  
"Forgiveness, and to see Rene," Isabelle replied, sitting down beside her son's grandmother. Marie snuffled her disapproval. "I invited him to Christmas Dinner. He deserves to get to know his grandson, and it is Christmas."  
  
"... And laying his finger aside his nose," Jean-Luc read to the assembled Picard family in the living room. He was seated in the big black chair, with Marrissa and Theresa at his feet. The fire was lending a warm glow to the room. Little Rene and Jackie were already asleep, their mothers sitting with Marie on the sofa. "And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose. He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, and away they all flew like the down of a thistle; but I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight, 'Happy Christmas to all, and to all a goodnight!.'"  
Jean-Luc closed the book and looked down at his daughter and niece. They were already dressed for bed. Marrissa was wearing red and black Starfleet issue pajamas. She had her arm around her cousin, who wore a cute green nightgown befitting her age. Theresa yawned, then brushed her blond hair back.   
"I think it's time for bed," Marie said, as another yawn overtook both Theresa and Marrissa.  
"Do I have too," Theresa asked. "I wanna stay up and see Santa Clause,"  
"He won't come until you are asleep in you bed, visions of sugar plums dancing in your head," her uncle Jean-Luc replied. "And I think you better get some rest too, Marrissa."  
"What are sugar plums?" Theresa asked.  
"They're small sugar candies," Beverly replied. "If you were good this year, Santa might leave some in you stocking. Now off to bed, you two."  
As the two ascended the stairs, Isabelle yawned, and said, "I think I better turn in as well. I'll see you all tomorrow morning after Marrissa and Theresa wake you up and before Dad arrivies."  
"Good night, Belle," Jean-Luc, Beverly, and Marie chorused.  
After Isabelle was safely out of ear-shot, Jean-Luc spoke up, "Now what is going on between you and Isabelle's father."  
"Do you know how she came to live here?" Marie asked. Jean- Luc shook his head, so Marie continued. "After you convinced him to accept Isabelle having Rene's baby summer of last of last year, things went on petty well until she started showing. Then Belle started coming over complaining about him commenting about how she'd dishonored him and his family. Then Christmas morning I found her on my doorstep, tears following, holding her seventh month pregnant belly, in just her bathrobe. It was twenty degrees out!"  
"Later in the day he had the nerve to try to come over and apologize. Isabelle didn't want to see him. I collected her stuff from his front yard where he had thrown it. I had to have her Preakness trophy repaired. Since then he has tried to apologize on her birthday, while she was visiting Rene's grave, and the day Rene junior was born. Bell's rebuffed him every time, and told me to keep him away from her. I've tried to do that."  
"From Isabelle's tone, I'd say that has changed," Beverly said. "She seems to be looking forward her father's visit."  
"Maybe so, but I don't want her disappointed or hurt," Marie replied. "She'd really like her father's support, but he's always favored her older brother over her. When she won the Kentucky Derby, his reply was, 'that's nice, did you here about my son's straight A's.'"  
"Hopefully, that's changed," Beverly said.  
"I will have a word with Philippe tomorrow," Jean-Luc promised. "Now I believe we have some presents to put under the tree, Doctor."  
  
Morning had not yet dawned on the Picard Chateau when the door opened to let a warmly dressed man in from the gently falling snow. Wesley had taken his mother's parting words to heart. He took off his coat and boots, and walked into the living room to warm up by the fire and await the waking of the family. He stopped by the kitchen and made himself some coffee with a little bit of cream. He wasn't a tea drinker like his step-father.  
Upstairs, the aroma of coffee woke the StarFleet Lieutenant who'd been having way too much of it lately. Marrissa loved the smell of coffee in the morning, but her parents preferred tea, and tried to get her to give up caffeine. She put on her black robe, flipping her hair out from under it and tip-toed down the stairs. She found her step-brother placing presents under the tree from his large sack. He turned and smiled at her. Wesley showed the coffee and earl grey tea he'd prepared.   
"When did you get here?" Marrissa asked, sitting on the sofa.  
"Just a few minutes ago," Wesley whispered. "I don't want to wake anyone up though."  
"Too late for that, you made coffee," Marrissa whispered back. Tiny footsteps where heard on the stairs.   
Little Theresa came into the living room. She took in the scene. The stockings were full. Presents were stacked under the tree, and the milk and cookies she had left had been eaten. "Santa came!" Theresa exclaimed.  
From behind her came her mother. Then came Jean-Luc, carrying his daughter, and Isabelle carrying her son. Last to enter was Beverly. She spied her son and exclaimed, "Wesley, you made it!" She ran over to the twenty-four year old.  
"Did you really think that I'd miss my little sister's first Christmas?" Wesley asked, hugging his mother.  
"Can we open the presents now?" Theresa asked, pleading with her mother.  
"If everyone will sit down and Marrissa will hand out the presents," Marie replied.   
  
The presents were unwrapped, and soon everyone had departed on their separate ways until dinner time. Isabelle and Marie retired to the kitchen to begin dinner. Marrissa took Theresa to the stables to see the horses. Beverly and Wesley retreated to the Library to catch up on recent events. Jean-Luc Picard, with his best Captain's face, waited outside in the snow for the last visitor for Christmas dinner to arrive.   
About ten o'clock, he spotted his prey. Philippe Boucher was walking toward the Picard Chateau with a bag slung over his shoulders. His face was downcast. His gait had a procession march with a slight hesitation that the Captain recognized from his long career as of a man marching toward certain doom. That walk changed Captain Picard's approach. He'd been intending to take a stern tact, laying down the law. Instead he placed his best diplomatic smile on and welcomed him like an old friend. "Philippe, I'd been wondering when you'd get here," the Captain said, walking up to the man and placing his arm around the man's shoulders.  
"Why are you welcoming me," Mr. Boucher said, puzzled. "I thought I'd have to run though a gauntlet of people lecturing me before I'd see Isabelle."  
"Well Theresa and Marrissa are off at the stables, my wife and her son are catching up, and Marie and your daughter are starting dinner," Jean-Luc replied. "They sent me to pick out some wine to serve at dinner. Perhaps you would join me in that task?"  
"Why not, I've put off the enviable a long time as it is," Philippe responded.  
"And the enviable is?" Jean-Luc said, leading the way to the wine cellar.  
"Isabelle throwing me out, just like I did to her last year," Philippe said, as the entered the outside door to the wine cellar.  
Captain Picard lead the father back into the cellar. "And what makes you think that she will do that?" he asked, inspecting the labels on one shelf.  
"What comes around, goes around," Philippe said, his eyes on his feet. "I treated her badly, she will do the same."  
"I think you underestimate your daughter," Jean-Luc began.  
"She's no longer my daughter, she's discarded me like a torn shirt," Philippe said, looking up, his eyes full of sorrow.  
"I find that hard to believe," Jean-Luc remarked. "Yes she doesn't need you in the same ways. Isabelle has grown up. I have two daughters myself. True, Marrissa isn't as old as Isabelle, but she doesn't need me the same way that she did when I adopted her. She isn't twelve years old any more and she has changed. Just as your daughter isn't a little girl anymore, she's mother now. You can't do everything for them any more."  
"What can I do?" Philippe asked. "She refuses my advice. She doesn't let me do anything for her. She's impossible."  
"Just be there for her, let her know you still care," Jean-Luc responded, pulling out a bottle and dusting off it's label. He smiled the smile of discovery. "I told Marie that there had to be some of the '33 around."  
"That doesn't sound like Starship Captain advice," Philippe remarked.  
"It's not, I had some problems with Marrissa," Jean-Luc said. "She's my Security Chief now, and I had a hard time adjusting to the changes the job caused."  
"You appointed her Security Chief?" Philippe inquired, his mind leaving his own problems.  
"Well when Lieutenant Commander Worf declined to serve as Chief of Security, I told him to pick his successor on the new Enterprise, giving the search over to him," the Captain replied, leading the way deeper into the wine cellar. "I was quite surprised when Marrissa reported for duty."  
"You didn't know who was going to be your Chief of Security until she reported for duty?" Philippe said, disbelieving.  
"I gave Worf full authority on the appointment, telling him that he was appointing his successor," Picard said, taking a set of stairs. "It's not an uncommon thing to do, especially when a large portion of the crew is being filled. Not letting me know until Marrissa reported for duty, well that was my fault."  
"Your fault?" Philippe questioned, following him up the gray painted stairs.  
"I was otherwise engaged with Beverly," Jean-Luc said, opening the door to the kitchen.  
"Oh."  
"Marie, I have the wine you wanted," Jean-Luc announced to the two inhabiting cooks. Both Marie and Isabelle looked up from their food. Spying Mr. Boucher, Marie grimaced before straightening her face. Isabelle smiled at first, but then forced her face into a neutral expression.  
"Father," Isabelle greeted, trying to be monotone.  
"Hello Isabelle, how is my favorite daughter?" Philippe said tentatively.  
"Dad, I'm your only daughter," Isabelle scolded.   
"That's right," Philippe said, apologetically. "I'm sorry I haven't been remembering how valuable you are lately."  
A moment of awkward silence followed. Neither of them quite sure how to continue. Marie and Jean-Luc watched from behind each of their charges. Marie was not sure if she wanted a reconciliation between the two, but knew that Isabelle missed her father. Jean-Luc preferred a reconciliation. Philippe had been a boyhood friend, not his best friend, only Louis could claim that, but a good friend.  
Finally, Isabelle broke the silence. "That's OK," she said. "Would you like to see little Rene? I just put him down for a nap, but chances are that's the only way you'd be able to see him anyway."  
"Oh?" Philippe questioned, as his daughter embraced him.  
"Ever since he started walking, he's been impossible to keep up with," Isabelle remarked, "Marie, can you handle things for a while here?"  
Marie smiled, "I've been running this kitchen since you were a baby, Belle. I think I can handle it while you show your baby to your father."  
"Thank you."  
  
Isabelle slowly opened the door to her son's nursery. Her father followed behind her. Little Rene was in his walnut crib, fast asleep. The two crept up on him. He laid in the crib with his left thumb in his mouth and his blanket spread evenly across his chest. Philippe Boucher looked on his grandson for the first time. "He's perfect," Philippe whispered.  
"I know," Isabelle replied.  



End file.
